


The Great British Baking Affair

by lovely_laurent



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, baker!merlin, closeted!Arthur, trans!Merlin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-30
Updated: 2017-10-30
Packaged: 2019-01-26 11:24:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12556368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovely_laurent/pseuds/lovely_laurent
Summary: Merlin owns a bakery with Gwen, Arthur needs a cake last minute. Along the way, Arthur ends up heads over heels with Merlin.





	The Great British Baking Affair

**Author's Note:**

> yes the title is a Great British Baking Show reference

Merlin jolted awake from a loud buzzing under his pillow. He sat up and dug for his phone underneath pillows and blankets, and when he found it, he answered with a sleepy “Hello?”

“Merlin!” cried Gwen on the other end. Her voice was shrill and panicked, as though she thought Merlin were in deep peril. “Where are you?”

“What? What time is it?” he looked over at his alarm clock, and when he saw the lit up numbers say it was nine thirty, he let out a loud “FUCK.” He hang up quickly and searched the room for his binder. He never went to work without it, and hadn’t for over three years. When he found it underneath the bed, he tugged it on and stepped into a fresh pair of pants and a shirt.

He tugged on his shoes as he hurried into the living room, where Gwaine sat eating breakfast in front of the TV.

“Running late?” he said between bites of cereal.

“You asshole, if you knew you should have woken me up.” Merlin grabbed his keys from the counter.

“I tried! You rolled over and fell back asleep.” Gwaine flicked his spoon at Merlin.

He didn’t remember that, but he knew himself, and knew that was probably true. “I’ll be back by five,” he said, and hurried out the door.

Merlin arrived at the bakery by nine-forty-five. Forty-five minutes late. Gwen was waiting in the kitchen, already covered in donut glaze and flour. She’d most likely been there since five this morning, baking donuts and setting up the bolt case. She gave Merlin a scowl when he arrived, pinning his nametag and pronoun button onto his shirt.

“I’m sorry, Gwen,” he said, stepping into the back of the kitchen to speak to her.

“It’s fine, Merlin,” she sighed, picking up the donut glazer and hovering it over the donuts to glaze them. “Just please help me.”

Merlin quickly picked up the donut glazer and helped her glaze the donuts while she hurried back to take the other donuts out of the oven.

\--

Arthur had almost forgotten Morgana’s birthday.

Correction: he  _ had  _ forgotten Morgana’s birthday.

It was only when his father had asked him if he’d gotten the cake yet that he remembered. Which, unfortunately, happened to be the day before the party.

“What do you mean you forgot?” his father demanded over breakfast. The look on his face had frightened Arthur, remembering years of yelling and interrogation that drove a wedge between Uther and Morgana. It was the reason she was living in a tiny apartment now, instead of on the Pendragon estate with her family.

Arthur ducked his head. “I don’t know. I just forgot what day it was, or something.”

Uther practically had steam coming out of his ears. “Well you better arrive with a cake. And I trust you won’t forget when you’re expected at the party.”

“I doubt it’ll be a problem,” he said, trying to seem cool and collected, and pretend that his father didn’t scare the shit out of him.

That afternoon, he had driven out into the city to a local bakery. There weren’t many in the area, and while he could always pick one up from the grocery, he knew Morgana. And he knew Morgana would know, and that she had very fine, expensive tastes. He didn’t want to hurt his sister’s feelings, and now was a very vulnerable time in their friendship.

Whereas Morgana was desperate to rebel and disobey their father, Arthur was desperate to please him. This hurt Morgana, like a knife in the back. It was only recently that she decided to let go of the grudge between them both, and skeptically test the waters between her and Uther.

Thus, Arthur needed to get a nice, custom cake. One that was specifically made for her. He just hoped the bakery could do it in twenty-four hours.

The place was white with pink trim, dainty and feminine, with paper signs in the window that read “Now Open! Try our homemade cannolis!” Arthur had a very vivid mental image of an elderly lady baking cakes while her husband collected retirement paychecks.

Instead, what he saw when he walked in, was a stunningly handsome young man. He seemed about Arthur’s age, and wore casual, plain clothes with an apron overtop. His nametag read MERLIN, which made Arthur groan internally, and sported a handy HE/HIM pin next to his nametag. His hair was dark, and his skin was fair and clear. He had cheekbones that could cut diamonds, and thick, pink lips.

It made Arthur feel dirty for noticing, as though his father’s voice rang in his ears claiming that real men didn’t notice the thickness of a man’s lips.

“Hello!”  Merlin chimed, snapping Arthur out of his thoughts. His voice was high and clear, like a ringing bell. “Welcome to Angel’s Cakes, can I help you with anything?”

“Um,” Arthur hummed. He shook his head, as though that would clear his mind, and said, “I need a cake. Within twenty-four hours. Can you help me?”

“Well, we have an assortment of cakes in our bolt case,” he said, and pointed to the case underneath the counter.

“No, you don’t understand,” he said, “My sister is a maniac. She’ll know if it’s not heartfelt. I need something specifically for her.”

Merlin hummed. “Ahh. I get you.” He turned around and grabbed a clipboard and pen, and started scribbling down on a sheet of paper. “What kind of cake? Yellow, chocolate, marble…?”

“Probably chocolate,” Arthur nodded.

“Chocolate it is. Best cream or traditional?”

“Huh?”

“Best cream is a whipped cream. Not as sweet. Traditional is thicker, more sweet.” Merlin smiled up at Arthur.

He thought for a moment. Morgana had a major sweet tooth, but Arthur did not. “Go for best.”

Merlin scribbled that down. “What colour frosting?”

“Can we do white and emerald green? No. Black and emerald. She’s going through a phase. Is it possible to do black frosting?”

Merlin chuckled and wrote that down. “Yes, it’s possible. Now, last question, I swear, how big do we want this cake? A fourth sheet, a half sheet? For reference, this is a fourth sheet. Feeds plenty.” He pointed down at a cake in the bolt case with his pen.

“That’s perfect.”

“Alright. Name for the order?”

“I thought you said that was the last question.” Arthur raised an eyebrow.

Merlin rolled his eyes. “Oh come on, is it really a question?”

Arthur scoffed. “False advertising. It’s Arthur Pendragon.”

That had Merlin glancing up from his clipboard. His lips were parted, as if in thought -- which, again, made Arthur feel guilty for noticing. “Arthur? As in King Arthur?” he asked, lips upturning in a smile.

Arthur groaned. “Yes, I know, Merlin and Arthur. I thought that when I walked in and saw your name tag.”

Merlin laughed, which caused a head to poke out from the kitchen behind him. It was a pretty girl with a dark complexion and curly brown hair. She was covered in frosting, and had flour in her curls. “What’s so funny up there? I want to hear jokes!”

“His name is Arthur,” Merlin hollered back. This earned a blush from the girl, who promptly turned around to finish a cake.

“Oh,” she said, loud enough so they could hear.

Merlin leaned in closer to whisper to Arthur, “Her name is Guinevere.”

“You’re joking.”

“I wish I was. She’s really shy though.”

“Well,” Arthur coughed He felt shy, himself, like as if Arthur would try and set them up. “Shyness is a...uh… Very respectable trait in a woman.”

Merlin frowned. “Nah, I don’t think so. I like bold women.”

“Er…” He looked away. “Anyway. My cake.”

“Oh right!” Merlin snapped up. “It’ll be ready by noon tomorrow.”

Arthur sighed in relief. “Oh thank God.”


End file.
